Twisted Thomas

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#32 Michel and Thomas finally throw down

Thomas

“Dude, you’re never gonna guess where I am,” Dylan says, his voice hoarse through the phone.

“Some guys apartment, tied to the headboard, blindfolded, your ass sticking up in the air while you wait for him to return with a huge black dildo?” I reply immediately, laughing at the image.

“How can I call you when I’m tied to someone’s headb-” He cuts himself off. “Never mind. No, I’m not at some guy’s place. I’m still at Tracy’s. In her bed, actually.”

“You slept with her?” I yell into my phone, shutting my laptop that I had on my lap to work on a website assignment we the other night. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Never in my wildest dreams did I think that he would ever do something like that to me.

“No, don’t be crazy,” he replies, laughing. “Like I would do that, you weirdo.”

“Oh.” I feel stupid now. “Then why are you in her bed?”

“Her couch was uncomfortable and she was having a nightmare. The dog was between us, so we didn’t spoon or anything. We just crashed, and she’s at work now. I’m having breakfast in bed.” I hear him opening something, and it sounds like he’s rummaging through the nightstand.

“Are you snooping?”

“Fuck yeah,” he says, not even sounding guilty. “Did you know she has a huge purple vibrator? And butt plugs in all shapes and sizes? And something that looks like… fuck man, I don’t even know. The girl is kinky.”

“Stop snooping!” I order, not wanting him to invade Tracy’s privacy like that. Obviously I know that she’s kinky and that she’s got a nightstand full of sex toys, since I’ve used some of them on her, but we usually kept things natural, needing only each other. Well, and her laptop with some hot porn, of course, which worked way better than sex toys anyway.

“Oh, by the way, you’re never going to guess who she’s hanging out with,” Dylan goes on. “Tracy joined a new gym after she left ours, and she ran into three guys there. They’re BBFs or something. One of them especially has gotten close to her. You know him.”

“Who?” I ask, racking my brain, but not coming up with any answers.

“Come on, Thommy boy, who do we know who’s a cop? A blue-eyed, tattooed cop with a bedazzled dick?”

“She’s friends with James fucking Tyson?” I can’t believe this. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Yeah, she is, and he’s even more muscular and blue-eyed than he used to be. He was wrestling her last night. Made her laugh so hard she was crying and snorting. Very attractive.”

An image of James making Tracy laugh shoots through my mind. He’s grabbing her legs to pull her off the couch, touching her, putting his slimy stupid hands all over her gorgeous body, looking into her eyes, leaning in closer to kiss her… Fucking hell. No way am I losing another girl to him. No. Fucking. Way.

“Is her interested in her?” I ask, trying to control my voice. This isn’t Dylan’s fault. “Does she… does she like him?”

“I don’t know, man, but they sure seemed chummy. They get alone like a house on fire, and they’ve been hanging out since you and her stopped talking.” Dylan pauses, and when he goes on, he sounds serious. “I think she’s going to break up with Michel. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but I don’t think they’re going to make it. Apparently, he’s not even living here this week. That’s why she invited friends over, because she asked him to leave for a couple of days, to get a break from him.”

“Yes!” I can’t help but he happy with that. I just hope this doesn’t mean that he was hurting her like I am still a little scared he was. “Oh God, that’s the best news ever. How is she doing, aside from befriending James Tyson and being on the verge of break-up?”

“Actually, she seems-” Dylan cuts himself off, and I hear him inhale sharply. “Fuck, I think there’s someone in the apartment. I heard footsteps, and Tracy texted not that long ago that she’s gonna be at work until late this afternoon, so it can’t be her. What if there is someone breaking into the apartment?”

“Maybe she forgot someone or is using her break to feed the animals?” I ask, wanting to get back to hearing about how Tracy is doing. “Did she seem alright? Is she-”

“Shh,” Dylan breathes. “Oh God, the footsteps are getting closer.”

About two seconds later, I hear an angry male voice though the phone, and it’s not Dylan. “What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

Michel.

Oh. Shit.

“Is that Tracy’s vibrator?” Michel continues, sounding positively murderous. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Hey, man, relax,” Dylan says, his voice trembling. “I’m just a friend of Tracy’s. Nothing happened between us, I was just hanging out with her last night, and we were drunk and it got late, so I – dude, let go of me!”

Cursing, I grab my keys and run out of the apartment, knowing that things might go south real fast. I keep Dylan on the phone, but someone hangs up on me after a few minutes – Michel, Dylan, I don’t know – and I call Tracy while I keep driving, not giving two fucks about the speed limit. If Michel hurts my best friend, I will fucking kill him.

She doesn’t pick up.

Of course she’s doesn’t.

I call the vet clinic next, and Delilah picks up, sounding professional. “Dr. Randalf’s veterinary clinic, this is Delilah Jones speaking. How may I help you?”

“It’s me, Thomas. You know, Tracy’s Thomas. I need Tracy on the phone right now.”

“Hey,” she says, sounding surprised. “She just walked in. Tracy!” Her voice sings through the clinic, and I hear someone yelling back. “Thomas is calling for you! He sounds freaked!”

Five seconds later, I hear her voice, sounding pissed as fuck. “I didn’t pick up my phone for a reason, Thom. Why are you calling me?”

“Michel just found Dylan in your bed, holding your vibrator.”

“What?!” she exclaims, sounding shocked as fuck. “Why is Dylan holding my vibrator?”

“Tracy!” I exclaim. “Not the right thing to focus on!”

“Right,” she realizes. “Fuck. Okay, I’m coming over. And calling Michel. Thanks for letting me know.” And with that, she’s gone.

I’m close to her place now, and I pull up into the apartment building’s parting lot. Someone is just getting out, so I rush to catch the door before it falls shut, ignoring him yelling after me. I drop to my knees in front of her door to find het key, but it’s not there. I pound the door with my fists instead, hoping they will hear me and open up.

They don’t. I’m standing there like an idiot, yelling and kicking the stupid front door, and then I realize that she’s got a backdoor that leads to the small park behind the building, so I run back out and get to the door where I snuck out last time I was there, and luckily, there is a key under the math this time.

I’m in.

The moment I run into the living room, I hear Dylan’s voice shouting at Michel, followed by a loud crash and a cry of pain. It’s coming from the bedroom. When I get in there, I see Michel holding Dylan’s neck, and he’s holding him firmly against the wall while he hits him in the stomach.

“You better let go of him right now, or I’m gonna fuck you up,” I warn him, causing him to look over his shoulder in surprise.

You,” Michel grunts, dropping Dylan, who slides down the wall and ends up on the floor, looking bruised and bloody. “Of course you’re here too. You’ve probably been fucking her together, haven’t you? She loves threesomes, after all. I’ve only been gone two nights, and she’s already cheating on me. Again. I’m not even surprised.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” I warn him, already cracking my knuckles, getting ready to throw down. I’m almost glad to have a reason to kick his ass.

“Or what?” Michel asks, taking a step in my direction, looking menacing. “I’ve been wanting to hit you for a while now. Guess I’ve finally got a reason, huh? No Tracy here to protect you this time.”

We jump at each other at the exact same time, and he grabs my hair while he tries to knee me in the groin, but I’m faster and stronger, so it’s him who ends up doubled over. As he recovers, I’m already landing more blows on him, and I can already tell that this isn’t a fair fight. Not at all. I could kill him with my fists alone and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Poor little chef. He’s no match for this boxing tech guy.

“That’s what you get for hurting Dylan,” I bite out, shoving him against the wall. “And for treating Tracy like crap.” I land a blow on the side of his face that causes him to cry out in pain. He tries to fend me off, but I’m too strong for him. And way too angry.

“Thom,” Dylan says weakly from the floor. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”

I’m too angry to stop right away, and I give him another shove and a kick in the stomach, enjoying how he’s doubled over in pain, begging for me to stop.

“Thomas,” Dylan says again, getting to his feet even though he’s obviously in pain. He grabs my arm when I am about to hit Michel again. “Don’t. This isn’t you.”

“Thomas?” a female voice says behind us, and I spin around to face Tracy. She’s looking at all of us with her eyes wide. “What the fuck is going on?”

“You filthy whore,” Michel grunts, still doubled over, clutching his stomach. “This is why you wanted me out of the house, isn’t it? So you could go back to fucking Thomas and have another threesome?”

“Call her a whore one more time and you’re dead,” I grunt, shrugging Dylan off and grabbing Michel’s throat so I can force him to look at me. He struggling to breathe, but I don’t care.

“Let him go,” Tracy tells me, her voice commanding. “Now, Thomas.”

I do as she says, stepping away from Michel with rage still threatening to take over. She shoves me out of the way, glances at Dylan and then puts an arm around Michel, holding him up.

“They both need to get to the ER,” she decides, still sounding strong and in control, even though her green eyes betray her panic. “You take Dylan, I’ll take Michel.”

“But that motherfucker just-”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Each of her words feels like a stab in the heart. “I’m not asking. I’m telling.”

“I’m okay,” Dylan says feebly, but he has to grab my shoulder to keep himself from toppling over.

I realize that Tracy is right, so I grab my best friend and help him out of the apartment and into my car. Tracy does the same for Michel, even though the fucker doesn’t deserve her concern. Grumbling curses to myself, I follow right behind her to the hospital, praying that Dylan will be okay and that I at least managed to break Michel’s nose or give him some serious internal bleeding.

I hate that motherfucker. She’s too good for him. Way too good.

“Thom,” Dylan says beside me, his eyes closed while he clutches his stomach, leaning back in the passenger seat with a pained look on his ashen face. “Don’t do anything stupid. He’s not worth it. It was all just a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t care. If he touches you or Tracy ever again, he’s dead.”

I mean it too. I don’t give a fuck about consequences. Next time he gives me a reason to kick his ass, I’m not stopping until cops pry me off his bloody, beaten body.

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